Prodigies
by urunimi
Summary: The Republic has decided that the talents of a prodigy should not be wasted. Day meets June, not on the streets, but at Drake University. June has never questioned the Republic until now. But now Day is forcing her to look deeper to see that her country is more flawed than she would ever have expected.
1. 1: June

JUNE

1236 HOURS.

DRAKE UNIVERSITY, BATALLA SECTOR.

72° F INDOORS.

"Do you know why you're here, Ms. Iparis?" Ms. Whitaker asks.

The other seven times I was called to my dean's secretary's office this quarter, I _always_ knew _exactly_ what I was being called for. Various stunts, all for the _good_ of our country. Each of them followed by a report. The truth is, they just don't challenge us enough here at Drake. And, sure, I _was_ on my way to my next scheme, but they couldn't possibly know that; I wasn't even off campus grounds.

"No," I say, not sure if it's the right answer or not.

Ms. Whitaker narrows her eyes at me. "Despite whatever _they_ might think–" she gestures to the group of students assembled outside of her office. They seem to take particular interest in the times where the "Republic's little prodigy," the freakish 15-year-old senior gets in trouble. "–you are not in trouble."

I can hardly say that's a relief. Though I wasn't hoping for an eighth report, I wouldn't be new to me. Now the only question is "Why am I here?" I voice my thoughts aloud.

"We have a new student joining us here at Drake University. I would like you to show him around," Ms. Whitaker says simply.

"What!? Why?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. Out of all the things she could've said, this is the one I had never expected to hear from Ms. Whitaker's mouth. I had never been much good at making friends, here at a school where the kids are four years older than me, where I am envied or idolized. I can't imagine why the dean of students is asking me to show around a student. I never got that kind of treatment when _I_ joined Drake. And you'd think I'd need it most, being a younger student. Besides, I am in no mood to show around anybody.

"I think you will find that you two have many things in common," I open my mouth to say something, but she ignores me and continues. "And, you have had seven reports this quarter, I'm fed up with the impunity you've received. The school board has decided that if you show this new student around–and dare I say, keep him out of trouble–"

"You want _me_ to keep someone out of trouble?" I look doubtfully at Ms. Whitaker, who knows best of all people how bad of an idea this is.

She ignores my protests and continues. "-we will give you a clean slate in terms of reports. As you know, typically after a certain number of reports, you could be expelled. We sincerely hope that you don't reach this point, as you are one of our most promising students."

This makes me want to laugh out loud; there is no way that they would expel the Republic's little prodigy, the second person–and only girl– to receive a 1500/1500 on the Trial. The only other person with the same score as I is Daniel Wing.

I have only met Daniel one time in my life, though I have heard about him plenty, poor kid from Lake, two brothers, dead father, got a perfect score and his whole family was upgraded to the gem sectors. Six months before my birthday, Daniel took his Trial and received a perfect score. Three months after my birthday, we both received twin awards and congratulations from Dr. Chian, the head of the judging of the Trial. Two days later, after interviews and photo shoots, we parted ways, onto not-so-different paths–he, like me is a senior, skipped _many_ grades, I think he's at Stanford now (Though he's got a genius Trial score, he's not very good at staying in one school–shenanigans and stuff. Basically, he's been expelled a lot.). I'd be lying if I said he doesn't ever cross my mind. If I ever screw up–which, mind you, doesn't happen much–I'll think to myself _Would Daniel have done any better?_ And then, I'll dismiss the thought because though he is the _first_ person to complete the Trial perfectly, I did it faster. And twice.

 _Take that Daniel._

"I won't do it," I say suddenly. I don't know whether I'm being lazy or defiant or just plain stubborn, but I have no interest in a poor new kid. He can fend for himself.

"June," this gets my attention fast. Ms. Whitaker _never_ uses my first name. It is all formalities and 'Ms. Iparis's with her. "We wouldn't be doing this if we didn't have to. Plus, your brother already agreed to it."

 _Metias, you traitor._ "My brother doesn't make decisions for me," I say blatantly.

"Ms. Iparis," so we're back to that again, "The least you could do is give him a tour and make sure he makes it to all of his classes in time. Just for a week. Your penance will be paid."

I hate it when I'm treated like a child, like I have to be goaded into this, find a compromise for this stubborn little being. I open my mouth to argue, but I stop suddenly, hearing gasps from the other side of the glass. I turn my head and out of all the surprises today, this hits me the hardest. He opens the door and plops down in the chair next to me that is usually unoccupied.

Ms. Whitaker nods politely at him. "Hello, Mr. Wing."

The new student is Daniel Altan Wing. I am going to be showing around the other Republican prodigy. It all makes sense. Keeping him out of trouble, having _much_ in common.

"Alright, so this is Drake." He doesn't sound particularly thrilled, and his voice is nothing like I remembered it. It is deeper, more masculine, and sends unwanted tingles down my spine.

"Mr. Wing here has had some...complications with other schools–" Ms. Whitaker begins, but Daniel cuts her off.

"I was _expelled_ ," he corrects.

"Yes," she looks at him with disdain. "In any case, he is here at Drake now. Daniel, this is–"

"June Iparis, I know," he says. He smirks at me. "You grew up nice."

I struggle to keep my face straight.

Beside me, Ms. Whitaker is certainly dumbfounded at his frequent interruptions. I hope I don't look as bewildered as I feel when I hold out my hand. "Hi Daniel, it's nice to see you– again," I choose my words carefully. I wouldn't describe my tone as friendly exactly, more like suspicious with mild hostility.

He takes it in a firm grasp. His hand is warm. "Feel free to call me Day."

* * *

 **I wrote this a while ago and I just thought I would touch it up and see if it was something worth continuing.**

 **Tell me what you guys think about it! Review are very welcome *wink wink***

 **Still debating whether or not to write this entirely in June's point of view or not, so opinions for that are welcome too.**


	2. 2: Day

**Wow, only a little more than a month since my last chapter. Honestly, that's practically a record. I'm going back to school soon, so I tried to get this out as soon as possible. Here y'all go since most of you wanted both perspectives.**

* * *

DAY

I can tell I'm making her nervous. Out of the corner of her eye I can see her fidgeting in her seat. It's been a while, and I wasn't joking around when I said that she "grew up nice."

She's taller, tanner, and more muscular that I remember her last. But her eyes are the same brown and gold-flecked intelligent eyes that I had first seen five years ago and have since then never left my mind.

Of course, it's hard for anything to leave my mind. The past years I've spent with a higher education have allowed me to pick up details, things that would've really helped when I lived in Lake, scrambling for anything I could get my hands on. But June's eyes are something that have especially stuck. I don't know why exactly. They are unlike any I've seen before, they follow you, calculating, analyzing, mentally making notes of every move you make. You think you can see the gears turning behind their sheen surface, but in the end you realize that no one can tell what's going on behind them.

I can feel her eyes on me now. I think she has always been a symbol somehow, my subconscious way of reminding myself of the people who are always watching.

What better symbol for the Republic than their smart, beloved, rich prodigy?

Even though we got the same score on the Trial, the Republic has always adored June more than me. They grudgingly accepted me, unable to believe that a kid from Lake could be smarter than some of their most prominent political figures, engineers, and soldiers. But when June scored the same score as me on that Trial twice, they welcomed her with open arms. They have put her on a pedestal and brushed me as far to the side as I could possibly go. Not that I mind of course. People will still recognize me on the streets, they will still treat me differently because of my Trial score. I still get the giant apartment for me and all my family, that's certainly enough.

They were all over it when she scored the same as me on that trial, made us get together and celebrate with Mr. Chian and all of the other near-geniuses in the Republic. We even had a ball to celebrate one night. I went with my mother and all night she adjusted my suit, the suit that we had just bought with all the money I had earned for my 1500. We had adjusted pretty well to our more comfortable lifestyle, and we would never be poor again, that was for sure. My mother and John were offered better job, better hours and a better pay. That whole night my mother talked about how proud she was. I was proud of myself, proud that I had been able to bring all of that to my family. Proud that I would succeed beyond any one thought the trouble-making, smart-mouthed, poor kid could.

It started out okay, me at Brenan. But then the kids provoked me. I'm sure it happened to June too, but I'm not like her. I couldn't take the taunts and glances in the hallway at the freakish kid, as I was already quickly ascending in academic ranks.

I let them get the better of me, I lashed out. They let it slide for a while, but then I put a kid in a hospital and they had no choice but to kick me out.

I spent my last years at Stanford, forcing everything down, putting a wall up between myself and the others. I didn't let them get to me. I focused on my studies and I kept moving, up, up, up, until I was a senior and ready to get out of there, when I finally realized: what comes next? I go off and become a soldier or I train or I do, what exactly? Provide service to a government that I don't believe in?

So I let my instincts take over. I pulled pranks and I tried to cram everything I could into one last year of freedom and I was gone after a few months.

Drake is my last chance. I don't know where I'm going from here, but I know I don't want to be expelled. Who knows what the Republic would do?

Ms. Whitaker is explaining something to me, but I'm not paying attention. I don't think June is either, she probably knows all this anyway. "Does that make sense?" she finishes with this question, and I nod wordlessly.

"Alright, Ms. Iparis, why don't you show Mr. Wing around," Ms. Whitaker says brightly.

June looks like she wants to argue, but decides not to. "C'mon," she motions to me, "I'll show you where the lockers are."

We exit the office and I flash a smile at some of the gawking students waiting outside. June sees me, rolls her eyes and walks faster.

"So, what's it like here at Drake?" I ask, running to catch up to her.

"Probably the same as it was at your old schools," June says dismissively.

"Nah, the girls here are way cuter," I joke, smiling.

She narrows her eyes and stops in the middle of the hallway. "Listen Daniel-"

"Hey, what happened to Day?" I protested. Ever since I had joined the upper class, I never felt like Daniel Altan Wing. I made myself a new name, a new identity. Day, I told the new people I met. A new dawn, a new day.

"No one will call you Day around here, if that's what you're hoping," June says in a matter-of-fact tone. "Your teachers will use your last name and, honestly, I doubt you'll have many friends."

"What, sweetheart, we're not friends?" I tease, reaching out a hand to hit her arm playfully.

Instinctively, her hand lashes out to block mine. "I'm showing you around, there's a difference," she says aloofly. I can tell she was forced into this.

"Come, on, us prodigies, gotta stick together," I say, not attempting to touch her again.

"I suggest you just lower your head and pray that you can get through this year as fast as possible," she says, ignoring my comment.

"Why are you so determined to get out of here?" I wonder aloud.

"Why are you not?" she asks, with true confusion on her face.

"What, so I can go on to the same boring lives as everyone else around here?" I shoot back. "I don't think so."

She sighs exasperatedly. "Whatever, Daniel."

"Day," I correct again.

"What is it with you and that name?" she asks, incredulously and I think I may be getting on her last nerve. "What does that even mean?"

I smirk and give her my well-rehearsed line. " _Each day means a new twenty-four hours. Each day mean everything's possible again. You live in the moment, you die in the moment, you take it all in one day at a time._ "

Her reaction gives me a sudden reminder of the ball, five years ago. For the most part, I just sat at a table in the corner and stuffed my face. When the dancing part came along, my mother forced me to dance with her. It must have looked awkward, a tiny ten year old with his mother dragging him around, all the movements forced without elegance or grace. We mostly just swayed back and forth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see June dancing with her older brother, Metias, standing on his feet, being twirled around like she was a princess. She was wearing a loose skirt, so it swirled with her and she really did look magical, like something straight out of a fairy tale. Her smile was something that I could never forget, a look of pure joy and innocence.

For just a millisecond, I see a trace of that same smile in her now. And then, just as quickly: gone.

She stands there staring, like she has forgotten what she has to do, then clears her throat, mutters "Let's go" and we begin our tour around the school.

* * *

 **Alright, so that was a lot of backstory. I exaggerated their personalities a little bit, Day's a big flirt and June is colder and "unfeeling"**

 **I'll admit, I'm not the best at writing from Day's (or really any male's) point of view, but I think I didn't do to badly. Tell me what you guys think.**

 **And yeah, I wish I could take credit for that "day" speech, but we all know that's a direct quote from Marie Lu (disclaimer!)**


	3. 3: June

**A couple of things, so this chapter is pretty short. To be honest it was kinda a filler, but the next one will be juicy and this is all I could get out with my current workload.**

 **Also, I'm thinking about changing the rating of the story to T because of minor profanity such as "damn", "hell", or "crap." I don't know if that would be considered 13+, but you never know. Once again, suggestions welcome.**

 **Rest of note at the bottom.**

* * *

JUNE

1954 HOURS.

RUBY SECTOR.

70° F INDOORS.

I'm finally home. And thank god for that, because I don't think I could spend another minute walking around the school with wide-eyed freshmen gaping at Day by my side and his annoying smirk.

I curse myself for calling him Day again. I curse him for getting into my head like that. He's probably off charming some other girl with that say "Day" crap. And here I am, still unable to get the thought of him off my mind.

I resent Ms. Whitaker too. I have to go through a week of pure hell all because the one other person in this Republic who matches my intelligence level (through some screwed up miracle) got expelled for a second time.

I don't understand why the girls seem to fawn over him whenever he walks by. Mostly freshmen, but I often notice a few glances from the older students, varying from intrigued to obsessed with his new arrival. When I arrived people gawked and stared with something like pity in their eyes, or jealousy. I certainly didn't attract attention from any boys. (except for this one kid, Dorian, who asked me out twice)

I push him to the farthest corner of my mind and try to focus. I'm in the last stretch of the torture they call university. No matter, I'll be out soon. _What, so I can go on to the same boring lives as everyone else around here?_ Day's words come back to haunt me. _Daniel's_ words come back to haunt me. Damn it, why can't I get this boy off of my mind?

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a key turning in a lock, and my brother's emergence from behind the door.

"Hey, Junebug," Metias greets me cheerfully.

"Hello, traitor," I respond, only half joking. "Thanks for getting me stuck with the new kid."

Metias smiles slightly. "Come on, June, what was I supposed to do? Deny a direct order from Commander Jameson?"

"Commander Jameson?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah. And even she was hinting that it was passed down from a higher place in the chain of command."

"Why would Commander Jameson be worried about me keeping an eye on Daniel?" I wonder aloud.

Metias shrugs. "I guess they really wanted to monitor the _second_ smartest person in the Republic," he says, ruffling my hair.

I smile as he walks into his room to get working on whatever mission he is on this time, while I start to contemplate my own. What's so special about Daniel? Why are commanders in our Republic so intent on keeping tabs on him?

It's time to find out.

* * *

 **So June is going digging. And we know that she's gonna go deep.**

 **I got surprisingly good reception for this story. Keep reviewing, it makes me wanna write more. And thanks to all of you who already did.**


	4. 4: Day

**Betcha didn't expect me back, huh?**

* * *

DAY

The rest of the school day was a bore. We had already went over most of this at Stanford. Though, the underclassmen were rather taken with me, I think. Much to June's chagrin.

Every time she caught a lingering glance, she would stare them down. Not that she was very scary, being a 15-year-old senior. She gave me dirty looks too, but I shrugged them off with a carefree smile which only seemed to irk her more.

The important thing is that I'm home now. I open the door to my apartment and realize the lights are off. That's odd, considering the fact that at least Eden should be home by now, even if John and Mom got held up at work. It is strangely quiet. "Mom?" I call out. I pause and look around the deserted kitchen. "John? Eden?"

"Ah, Mr. Wing," a voice from the den. I am taken by surprise by the tall, brooding female figure standing in the middle of the room, fully decked out in a commander's uniform.

"Who are you? Where's my family?" I frantically looked behind her, as if she might be concealing them somehow.

"My name is Commander Jameson," she says, extending her hand. "I don't believe we've met."

"Might I ask what you're doing in my house?" I say, probably a little too brazenly for her liking, as she narrows her eyes.

"Mr. Wing, it has come to my attention that you have been insubordinate at your past few schools," she ignores my question and lowers her hand.

I'm not quite sure how to respond. After a long pause, she adds, "Well?"

"I may have made a few missteps in the past," I admit reluctantly, like a little kid being forced to confess that he took the last cookie.

"I'd just like to make it clear that nothing like that will ever happen again," Commander Jameson responds, the admonishing parent. "Needless to say, the consequences would be severe."

Holding back facts, playing on my weaknesses, I don't want to admit it, but the Republic has good interrogation tactics. They know how to make a person squirm.

"I assure you, nothing like that will ever happen again," I say, confident that what I've said is an adequate answer.

"I should hope so," she looks at me disapprovingly.

She is still standing in my apartment, and after she says nothing more, I ask, "Is that all?"

Commander Jameson smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Yes, that will be all." She brushes past me with a dignified air, as if she were in her own house. Typical gem-sector raised elitist. Probably still thinks I should be back in the gutter. That that's where poor-sector "scum" like me belong.

"Oh, and Daniel–" I am so lost in my thoughts, I barely hear her stop to add one last thing. Her voice echoes off the walls as she stands in the doorway facing me. "–don't mention this conversation to anyone. I would hate for others to be punished for your own mistakes." She closes the door quickly before I can say another word.

It doesn't take much to hear the threat in her voice.

* * *

Eden gets home about an hour later. He had a playdate I wasn't aware of. John and Mom, like I guessed, were both held up at work.

Now, it is past midnight. I am in my room, in bed, but sleep won't come. My brain, already more active than most, has been reduced to a continuous loop of worrying thoughts, too great for even sleep to overwhelm my senses.

I keep thinking that it couldn't be a coincidence that Commander Jameson had come on the day when none of my family was home. And clearly she wasn't doing it for her own pleasure, this order had to have come down the line from ranked much higher.

They had this planned out. They wanted me alone and vulnerable. They wanted me to know that it wasn't just me they could harm, but my family as well.

I throw off the covers suddenly and tiptoe down the hall. Eden's door is wide open; he can't sleep with it closed. His blonde curls frame his face innocently and I sigh, not able to imagine a world without him. Not able to imagine a world without selfless John, or Mom, the glue that holds our family together.

What would the Republic do to them? What trials would they face if I step out of line?

I don't plan on finding out.

* * *

 **Well, dun dun dun! The plot thickens.**

 **How did this chapter go? Tell me whatcha think (seriously guys I love reviews)**


	5. 5: June

JUNE

I didn't gain anything from my all-nighter looking up information on Daniel. Just a flaring temper and enormous fatigue. I nearly fell asleep in Republic History. Not that that was much of a surprise. The classes with no activity bore me to no end. It's not like it's any help. I know this stuff already, I've heard the stories. They've been drilled into our brains. The way I see it, it's just a natural part of growing up in the gem sectors. I know I'm lucky, I know I'm blessed. I know that I certainly wouldn't be hearing these stories if I had the background of somebody like Daniel.

Daniel. _Damn_ Daniel. I couldn't find a single thing on him that I didn't already know. Mongolian descent, perfect trial score (they had his file enclosed, I reviewed it), dead father. There was nothing on him. No secret government conspiracy to uncover or a single piece of dirt on Daniel.

A sharp pain stabs through my head. It was so not worth it.

It's my lunch break now. I head over to the cafeteria. Usually I would go out, maybe even sprint home if I was up for it, but with the current pounding in my head I figure that isn't the best idea. I end up simply getting a cold bottle of water, unable to stomach solid food.

I sit up at a table in the corner. The cafeteria is relatively empty; I have an odd schedule and most people go out for lunch (like I would be doing–I remind myself–as I desperately chug down water, trying to stop the feeling that my head was about to crack open)

I get so desperate I even contemplate calling Metias to bring me home. But I know I couldn't do that. Metias is so attentive when I'm sick; I couldn't yank him out of his work, especially not when he's getting on good terms with Commander Jameson. Plus most of my classes after lunch are more active. Activity clears my head. It gives me a purpose beyond studying old stories. I want to become the future of the Republic, not learn any more about the past.

I am so caught up in my thoughts I don't even notice the lean figure quietly sitting down beside me, until he speaks. "You're not going to eat anything?"

It's Daniel. Great, that's just what I need right now. "I'm not hungry," I say through gritted teeth, doing my best not to explode on him right then and there. I refuse to look at him, keeping my eyes on the table.

"You should really eat something. You need something to fuel yourself," he persists, though I'm not quite sure why.

"I have a headache," I try, once again, to dismiss him, hoping he'll take a hint.

"Even more reason to eat." I look up for the first time, expecting to find a cheeky grin, but I am met with only a concerned expression. I narrow my eyes at Daniel, trying to read him. _What does he want with me?_

In the silence, he reaches his hand out to touch my forehead. I am about to smack it away or tell him to stop, but he pulls away quickly. _Not quickly enough, apparently,_ I think as I feel something fluttering in my chest, this time not caused by my current medical condition, but rather emotional.

"You're burning up," he remarks with shock. "You should really go check on that. You could have a fever, I mean, if you're sick, you should–"

"I don't get sick," I snap, gathering my wits about me, though considering the possibility for a moment. I don't normally get sick much anyway, but when I do, I work through it. But a fever, that would explain a lot. "Just please, go away."

He doesn't move, just keeps staring at me intently, like he's trying to analyze me. When he doesn't, I grudgingly get up, needling a refill on my water anyway.

I get back to the table and Daniel's gone. _Good,_ I think. I can finally get some peace around here.

But the noise is rising again, a crowd of chatty freshmen has just entered the cafeteria. I close my eyes and try to tune them out–to no avail.

I get up to leave, slinging my bag over my shoulder and stowing my water bottle in there for later, when I notice something else in my bag, something that wasn't there before.

A banana. The words " _You should really eat something"_ echo in my head. I stare at Daniel's gift and find I am beginning to feel an unwanted rumble in my stomach.

I pause for a minute, holding the yellow fruit in my hand, wondering whether I should eat it or throw it away. Do I really believe Daniel would try and poison me? Probably not. I remember the look in his eyes before, a look of genuine concern.

I unpeel it and walk out the door, realizing that a small snack might be just what I need.

 _Maybe Day's not so bad after all,_ I think, the thoughts of last night momentarily gone.

* * *

 **Damn Daniel back at it again confusing June**

 **I'm sorry once that thought was in my head I had to put it in there**


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